


Paint Her Lips So Blue

by GrapefruitTwostep



Category: The Secret World
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Unnecessary Amounts of Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrapefruitTwostep/pseuds/GrapefruitTwostep
Summary: Relations between the Templar and the Illuminati have never exactly been positive. Kristen Geary isn't looking to change that, just to get through her time liaising between the two factions. Unfortunately she finds her Templar counterpart endlessly punchable...and maybe something else as well.





	1. The London Blitz

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I thought up as a joke...and then it got serious. Will likely be set over a long period of time and from different view points, but currently there isn't much in terms of a plan. 
> 
> This chapter is set before the start of the game.

**NEW YORK-COUNCIL OF VENICE MEETING**

Kristen Geary examined her nails and waited for the Templars arrive. They were late; she was somehow unsurprised. They were too stuck in the past to have the courtesy to be on time to a business meeting. Part of her worry, may have been nervousness on her part. She’d met Templars before, but never anyone higher up than a bee infested 20-something that hadn’t gotten themselves immediately killed. And it was her first council meeting. There was really a lot for her to be nervous about.

She had no doubt that she’d be fine. She knew what she was doing. She knew what to say. She just wanted to be able to do it.

Kristen checked her makeup. Then she looked around the white, neat, unremarkable council waiting room. The plant in the corner needed to be watered. She ignored it.

When were they going to get here?

She heard the Templars before she saw them—-neat footsteps on the white tiled floor, the voice of an older woman. She raised her head. Three guards in the traditional militaristic uniforms that she’d seen in surveillance footage entered the waiting room, followed by one older white woman in a long coat emblazoned with a red cross.

Kristen despaired. Look at them, so set in that knights standing against evil bullshit. There was no hope for it, obviously. But she knew to be polite, because they might have something that she wanted in the end, so she stood as they entered and smiled her best corporate smile.

“Hi there,” she said.

The older woman looked her up and down, then shook her hand without much relish. “Oh, yes, hello, I’m Dame Julia Tyburn, how are you dear?”

Kristen had never been “dear-d” by an old woman in a cape and she didn’t like it. This was it. This was the thing that was so maddening, so useless about the Templars. They were so behind the times. It was horrifying, really. Just horrifying. And a little pathetic.

“I’ve been lovely, Dame Tyburn,” she said, still smiling. “Just hoping we can get all of this worked out with minimal bloodshed.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Either the old lady was senile or distracted, Kristen couldn’t tell which. The Dame turned to the guard beside her, a young man with pale hair, and said, “Where _has_ Richard gotten off to?”

“Not sure, Ma’am,” the man said.

Kristen sighed. This was going to be way more painful than she had previously hoped.

“Let’s go into the conference room,” she said, wanting this to be over already.

There were already a handful of people in the conference room; a tall black woman with locs down her back in Council white, and a small Asian man who looked vaguely homeless that Kristen assumed was probably from Dragon. One of the Illuminati’s own representatives, Alec Rice, was already there too and he patted the table next to him when she came. The Templar guards stayed outside. Dame Tyburn sat across from them.

A moment of awkward silence ensued. Alec cleared his throat and leaned forward. “So, as I was telling you, Dame Julia,” he said, all respectful dislike, “there’s an issue with your territory in—“

The door opened and Kristen looked up. “Sorry about that,” said the man who entered, a man who Kristen could only have identified as a Templar by the tattoo on his right hand, blue against the brown of his skin, “but apparently someone has started a bit of an apocalypse again.” He looked around the room, straightening the cuffs of his neat pinstriped suit, and his eyes fell on Kristen and narrowed almost imperceptibly. Ah. Kristen fingered her necklace thoughtfully and gave him a tiny nod, accepting the challenge in his face. He was one of those. The New Templars. Trying to resurrect a dinosaur, was he? We’ll see about that.

“Richard Sonnac,” he said with a nod as he sat down across from her. “Of the Templars.”

“Kristen Geary. Illuminati.” She stared at him, unsure of what to make of his neat little beard and dark, haughty gaze. He didn’t look like a white knight. Unfortunately, in her experience, most of them didn’t. It was only when they opened their mouths that you realized that they were awful.

His eyes slid away from her. “Ah, Mr. Rice, good to see you again, I don’t think.”

“Sonnac.” Alec nodded his head once, grinning. “Nice to see you haven’t changed your tune of idiotic British sarcasm and bigotry.”

“Mmm,” said Sonnac, pursing his lips. He looked up at the Council woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just old friends, you know.”

She nodded and Alec started speaking again to Dame Julia, but Kristen wasn’t paying attention. For one thing, she didn’t need to. She’d been brought along simply because Alec had needed someone to look hot in a skirt and take notes on who might be trying to kill them. It was easy. Kristen didn’t exactly relish easy assignments, as they put her to sleep, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, being cooped up in HQ got tiring. She didn’t mind the chance to get out for a little while.

Part way through the meeting, she realized that Sonnac wasn’t paying attention either. He tapped his pencil against the leather folder in front of him and stared at her. Hair rose on the back of her neck. His made her uncomfortable, and when she got uncomfortable, usually she reacted badly.

Instead of cussing him out, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and tried to present him with the best picture of disinterest that she could manage. What was his fucking problem? She tapped her tongue against her teeth and thought hard about how to react.

When she looked back, his eyes were fixed on his notes, but he shook his head very slightly, mouth curving up with amusement. Kristen didn’t like that at all. It was too close to him laugh at her. Which was something that she was really not cool with.

Hearing her name, she looked up. “…Next month, in London,” Alec was saying, turning to look at her. “You can be our ambassador?”

He wanted her to go to London. Oh, oh no. She didn’t think that was going to happen. “I have—“ she started but the look on Alec’s face was so hard and uninterested in her opinion that she shut his mouth and vowed to have him strangled later.

“Yeah,” she said instead.

“Think of it as working vacation,” Alec said. “Don’t worry. One weekend and we’ll have you back with the bees, ordering them about.”

“Yes.” Sonnac smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I promise we won’t put toads in your bed. We understand the laws of hospitality still, even if some people don’t.”

* * *

 “I cannot believe you!” Kristen snapped. Alec laughed and lit a cigarette in the car back to Brooklyn. “I seriously cannot believe that you think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Alec told her. His nostrils flared and smoke leaked out of the corner of his mouth. “That’s why I’m sending you.”

“You’re a bastard.” She took the cigarette from him and sucked in an angry puff. “You know, I don’t go out to get you killed. I don’t get why you think that this is what I want.”

He laughed again and she considered putting the cigarette out on his arm but then decided that was too hands on. She’d get someone else to do it later.

“What do you think of Sonnac?”

“Not a fan.” Kristen scowled. “He kept looking at me funny during the meeting. I’m not sure what he wanted, but I wasn’t interested in giving it to him.” She flipped her bangs out of her eyes. “I think that he was trying to make me uncomfortable. Do I really have to negotiate things with him? On his turf? Alec, that sounds incredibly dangerous.”

“You like danger,” Alec pointed out.

“No, I like putting other people in danger. I won’t just come back like some people we know.”

Alec signed. Kristen put her appropriated cigarette out in the car’s ashtray and clicked her tongue against her teeth.

“Come on, Krissy,” Alec said quietly. “For me. I really need this, okay? Someone’s got to do this and, for some reason, I trust you not to fuck this up.”

“I won’t fuck this up,” Kristen said with a sigh. “As long as you never call me Krissy again.”

* * *

  **LONDON-TEMPLE HALL**

“You guys really do go all out for that old school class stuff, huh?” Kristen put her bag down next to the red couch and sighed. “This means that everything I own is going to be the wrong color. I’m going to stick out like a blueberry in a pack of foxes. A very angry blueberry.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said the girl who had led her up to her room, nodding stiffly. It was a bow, Kristen realized. She was bowing.

A new rush of distaste for Templars flooded Kristen.

“Mr. Sonnac sent this up, Ma’am.” The girl handed over a manila envelope with Kristen’s name scrawled on the front. For a second Kristen wondered why he couldn’t have just emailed it to her, but then she remembered where she was and threw the packet down on the bed, huffing in annoyance.

“Thanks.”

“If you’d like anything, just let me know.” The girl bow-nodded again and then, looking up through her eyelashes, said, “Mr. Sonnac says to tell you that whenever you would like to commence discussions, he’s in his office. I can take you there if you like.”

“Yeah, not now.” Kristen sat down and decided that she really didn’t want to talk to any more Templars right now. “Go away.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Once the girl was gone, Kristen kicked off her heels and tossed herself onto the bed. She was still annoyed about having to navigate the crowds in the airport with her suitcase, in heels, and then wait for someone to come pick her up at Heathrow, not to mention that she’d never been able to sleep on planes no matter how first class they were. She was more than ready not to have to think about work for a whole twenty minutes, but no, Mr. Richard Sonnac couldn’t have that, now could he. Hadn’t even bothered to pick her up himself.

She rolled over and grabbed the envelope, pulling it open. There was actual gilt leaf on the tops of the pages, for God’s sake. Idiots. Most of it was what she was expecting: treaties, territory agreements, demands. It wasn’t really a big deal. She was planning on simply saying “No” a lot.

But there was also a handwritten note, on thick paper, in neat, spidery script. “Miss Geary, I would appreciate it if you would consider reading this over. We can speak tomorrow. I’ll have breakfast sent to your room. R. Sonnac.”

“What an asshole,” Kristen said aloud, threw the papers on the floor, and went to take a shower before bed.

* * *

 True to his word, Sonnac did in fact send up breakfast for her, which was more of a pain than a pleasure. Kristen didn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything before noon. There was, thankfully, coffee, so she had three cups of it while ignoring her eggs and bacon and beans on toast. Instead, she made the Templar girl run up and down the stairs for more sugar, which she didn’t take. It was just funny.

At ten she felt she’d wasted enough time. She was jittery from caffeine and she looked sharp enough to cut from the hours she’d spent in front of the bathroom mirror trying to find excuses not to go downstairs.

“All right,” she said to the Templar girl. “Let’s get this over with.”

Sonnac hadn’t met her in his office. In fact, they didn’t go anywhere near the front of Temple Hall, though from the window of the staircase, Kristen looked down at the courtyard where sweet, fresh faced Bees in all sorts of shades of red rushed back and forth.

Instead Sonnac greeted her in a small library in the back of the hall, where the windows opened on a neatly tended garden and the sounds of birds drifted in. He barely looked up from his paperwork when she entered. “Miss Geary. I trust you’ve had some time to read what I sent up to you.”

“You could say hello.”

Sonnac looked up as the Templar girl excused herself silently and closed the door behind her. He blinked slowly and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Miss Geary, I suppose I could, but I am in fact a very busy man and really don’t have the time for your silly Illuminati games. I thought perhaps your folk would have had enough time to grow up after 2,000 years or so, but apparently I was wrong.” He looked her up and down, more slowly this time. “Good God, if you’re the sort they’re hiring now, they really are desperate for membership.”

“What does that mean?” She set her hand on her hip, cocking it out to one side with military perciseness.

“All it means is that your skirt screams of trying too hard.” He waved his hand at the empty chair across from him. “Do have a seat, Miss Geary.”

She sat. “Ah, I see. So you’re one of those in the Old Boy’s Club? You know, what I had to do to get here, right? I mean, yeah, maybe the Illuminati are more enlightened than you Neanderthals, but—“

“I work for a knighted lady, Miss Geary. I do not believe that sexism is a major concern.” He finally closed the folder containing the papers he had been perusing and calmly poured two cups of tea.

Kristen didn’t want tea. She wanted vengeance.

Sonnac leaned back and met her gaze, his dark eyes hard and cool like stone. “However, I will admit that I may be rather bigoted against Illuminati.”

“Because you’re all so forward thinking? How are those membership numbers?” Kristen shook her head and tilted her chin up to look down her nose at him. What a fucker.

“Ah, but we are here to talk business, right?” Sonnac shook a finger.

“You know, I’m not a big fan of being talked down to, _Dick_.”

Sonnac gave her a sideways look, meeting her eyes and holding it for longer than was comfortable, but Kristen knew better than to back down. For a long time, longer than she would have wanted, they stayed there, staring each other down in silence.

Sonnac laughed, just a droplet of deep throated amusement, and looked away. “Fair play, Miss Geary.” He shuffled papers and picked up his tea, leaning back in his chair and placing one expensive shoe on his knee. “So, shall we discuss the territorial rights of Tokyo, then?”

* * *

Spending this much time with Richard Sonnac had given Kristen a whole new idea of patience in the face of adversity. He still had yet to say one even vaguely pleasant thing to her, after two days, which wasn’t necessarily unexpected, but he also hadn’t backed down on any of the treaty negotiations either. And he never got angry at her. He wasn’t the sort to yell. Instead, the angrier he got, the deeper his voice got and the whiter his knuckles would get on his teacup. And the more he insulted her. Kristen was used to being insulted, but not being able to do anything about it was what really bothered her.

So instead she just insulted him back. It was a good compromise.

She was due to leave in four hours and she had never been happier to go. Sonnac was beginning to frustrate her more than she was willing to deal with. Nothing had been accomplished. Alec would be furious.

She had packed, fuming, and told the Templar girl to bring her things down to the car. In the few hours she had left, she decided that she would try for Sonnac one more time, try to yell her way into a compromise about the Tokyo issue.

To that end, she went down to his little library office, only to find that he wasn’t there. So she went searching for him, her Templar guide following behind her and trying to dissuade her. She found him in his main office in Temple Hall. When she came in, his eyebrows snapped together and he turned to the pair of new recruits in front of him. “Give us the room, please,” he said, voice tight. “Olivia, close the door on your way out and make sure Miss Geary and I are not disturbed.”

The Templar girl nodded and left. “That’s her name?” Kristen asked.

“You hadn’t bothered to find out? I shouldn’t be surprised.” Sonnac stood and came around the desk, folding his arms. “What are you doing here, Miss Geary? I thought we discussed keeping you out of the public view. We wouldn’t want anyone to think we were getting along, now would we.”

“I wanted to give you one last chance to accept my offer on Tokyo.”

“No thank you. We’ve discussed this.”  
“Dick.” She put one hand on her hip and gave him her best pout. “I’ve been reasonable up to this point. I thought I might as well be nice one more time before things got ugly.”

Sonnac laughed. “Yes, because Templars have never seen ugly before. I have an organization to run, Miss Geary. You may see yourself out.”

She blew out a hard breath. “You are impossible, do you know that? You’re so stuck in your ways, so ignorant of what might be coming. You need to be have some of the benefits of modern technology, damn it!”

“I have a smartphone. It makes annoying noises and is more flash than substance. Much like you, Miss Geary.”

Kristen blinked. “Low blow. But kinda weak. I thought you’d have a little more fire to you than that.”

He looked up at her, eyes hard, lips pressed together. Something other than anger lurked there. Kristen fought the urge to swallow and look away. Instead, she stared back at him.

“You want more fire, is that it?” His voice tightened.

“Well, I shouldn’t expect much from Templars. Your fire burned out a long time ago.”

He moved fast for a man who spent all of his time in libraries, fast enough to grab her waist with one large hand and a handful of her hair with the other before she could even move. She stumbled, shocked by how much she’d been waiting for this, been needling him in hopes that he’d take some sort of initiative. He stopped her fall by pushing her into a bookcase. A few volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica tumbled off the shelf beside Kristen’s head.

His forehead pressed against hers, but he froze, breath coming fast. She put her fingertips against his chin, his neat beard rough beneath her fingers, and then he kissed her, pulling her head back; even with her heels, he was taller than she was. His weight was warm against her, the bookshelf digging into her spine as he pushed her back, mouth hard, demanding, hands sliding up beneath her jacket. A little ashamed of herself, she gasped, which made him growl against her mouth and give her another little shove. She smiled, then laughed, and when he repeated the growl and push motion, obviously intent on getting her to shut up, she bit his lower lip and hooked one leg around his calf. From outside, the casual buzz of conversation drifted through the door, Templars speaking to each other in bright voices, but here there was only Sonnac’s hands on the bare skin of her belly and her stifled giggles.

“So, Dick.” She pushed his head back. His hair wasn’t long enough for her to pull so she ran her nails down the back of his head. Sonnac shuddered against her, fingers tightening on her waist. “You’re really into these Tokyo negotiations, huh?”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Sonnac kissed her again, a deep, open mouthed kiss, where she could feel his tongue dart across her lips. Annoyed, she dug her nails into the back of his neck, but kissed him back anyway. The heat rushing through her blood was intoxicating, almost alcoholic, except darker and more violent.

Of course, this was going to happen in the end, Kristen thought as Sonnac’s hands brushed her ribs. She was stupid for not seeing it. All she wanted to do was to twine herself around Sonnac, and maybe punch him in the face.

In a swift graceful movement, Sonnac picked her up, letting her wrap her arms around his neck to support herself. He executed a swift turn, and, without much thought for her safety or comfort, tossed her onto his desk. He took a step back and surveyed her as she sat up and straightened her skirt.

“Well,” she said idly, fixing her hair and crossing her legs. “That was interesting.”

Sonnac turned his back on her, lacing his fingers together just below the hem of his jacket. “Is that enough fire for you, Miss Geary?”

She laughed and was glad it didn’t sound quite as breathy and high pitched as she was feeling right now. “If that’s all you’ve got, then no.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her and she tossed her head back, arching her back so that not only did he glance down at the curves of her breast beneath her low cut jacket, but also at the large eye pendant resting there. His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, and then he looked away, jaw tight.

She laughed and casually unbuttoned the jacket. “Come on, Dick. Lost your nerve? What do you intend to do now?”

He came towards her, eyes hard, and slid his hands up the insides of her thighs, stepping in so his hips pressed her knees apart. “I think,” he said, his voice still calm, still slow and drawling, still aggravating and exhilarating all at once, “that I intend to fuck you on my desk.”

Kristen laughed. “Excuse you, Mr. Templar, but I think that you might be overstepping your boundaries a little bit.”

“What do you intend, then, hmm?” He kept unwavering eye contact. It shocked her how hard his face was, while his fingers were surprisingly gentle as he slipped her panties down to her knees. They were lacy. Most of hers were, because she found that she liked to wear her “You’d Fuck Me If You Could” panties with her “Crush the Patriarchy” heels. But he wasn’t looking at that. Instead, he smiled, just a little smile, small, cynical, and eminently pleased with himself as his fingers followed the line of her thigh back up.

“I intend to fraternize with the enemy,” she said. “Pity he’s being a little bitch about it.”

Sonnac’s fingers continued until she gasped, and then wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“A little bitch, is it?” He leaned in close to her, his lips against the side of her neck, and bit her, lightly, infuriatingly, pulled away, returned, repeated. His thumb made a neat circle between her thighs and Kristen tensed, then relaxed, deciding that she didn’t want to do any of the work; if the Templars wanted to please her, that was just fine and dandy.

“Yeah,” she said breathily, grabbing his lapel in the one hand that wasn’t holding her up, and dragging his face down to hers. “A little fucking bitch.”

Kissing him was easy, fun; there was a lot of pent up aggression in her. Kissing him also made her lips hurt and a deep red ache start in her lower belly. Sonnac growled and broke away to bite the upper curve of her breast.

“Don’t leave any marks that you don’t want to explain to the newbies,” she told him.

He laughed. “Are you scared of a few questions?” He wrapped her hair around his fingers and pulled, steady, and hard. She heard the sound of a zipper and smiled. “I know your sort likes power,” he said quietly and slipped his fingers down from the top of her pelvis bone, smooth and confident, and inside her. She smiled and let out a pleased breath as Sonnac continued, “But there’s also something called finesse that I would direct you towards.”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Dick,” Kristen said and pulled him closer. “If you’re going to fuck me, just do it.”

So he did, in one quick thrust. Kristen almost wasn’t expecting him to step up to the plate, enough so that she said “Oh!” very loudly.

Sonnac put a hand over his mouth and whispered “New recruits” in her ear as he pressed into her. He left his hand there but she pulled it away and put her hands on either side of his neck, digging double patterns of crescent moons into the base of his skull. He didn’t let her get used to it. He didn’t wait for her to become accustomed to the sensation, or keep herself under control. He kept her still with one hand in her hair and one hand on her hip. Any time she made a noise louder than a whisper, she was met with his mouth, hard and silencing, and she’d laugh against his lips and then gasp again and the cycle would start anew.

Kristen tried, she really did, to keep herself thinking of other things so that he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of getting her off, but every time a wave of sensation shot through with a painful bite or hair tug, would bring her back to the moment. All she had time to say was, “You fucking—“ before the climax came on her like a song and she had to grit her teeth and press the back of her hand to her mouth to stop herself from making any noise.

Light rushed through her, bright and excited, pouring up out through her face and shoulder blades in exquisite waves of unseen luminescence. “Ah,” she whispered as the light left her and she slipped down, the tension leaving her body.

Sonnac slid against her once, twice more and then his teeth gritted and he silently slipped down against her, with a muttered breath, bowing his head against her chest.

“You fucking asshole, Sonnac,” she told him, breathing slowly. “You goddamn fucking asshole.”

He laughed and kissed the slope of her breast, then straightened and stepped back, neatening himself up before she had a chance to see everything. Kristen rose and straightened her skirt, patted down her hair, and slipped her panties back up.

Sonnac wouldn’t look at her. He stood very straight, the very picture of poise. “I hope I haven’t made you late for your flight, Miss Geary.”

“No, of course not.” She buttoned her jacket. “Thanks for the concern.”

“No trouble to be polite.” He opened the door and stuck his head out. “Olivia, Miss Geary and I have concluded our business. You may take her to Heathrow now.”

The girl must have answered because Sonnac nodded.

Kristen hoped she didn’t look as though she’d just fucked a Templar on his desk.

He offered her a hand, which she shook, trying to appear innocent. “I do apologize that we couldn’t work out anything with the Tokyo issue,” Sonnac said.

“Yeah, so am I.” She picked up her purse from where she’d dropped it by the bookshelf and removed her sunglasses. “Ciao-ciao, Mr. Sonnac. Hope you’ll see reason soon.”

Sonnac laughed as she left with Olivia trailing after her. “Yes, Miss Geary,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear, “I’m sure we all hope that.”


	2. A New York Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonnac attempts to liaise.

**NEW YORK CITY-ILLUMINATI HEADQUARTERS**

“Have you heard about the new handler?” Lacy said, coming into Kristen’s office. 

Kristen looked up from the pile of paperwork that she was steadily working her way through and clicked her tongue at the woman in her doorway, illuminated from behind by the cool fluorescents.

“No, I haven’t. Is it you? Are you here to rub your promotion in my face?” The two women had maintained a friendly rivalry since joining the Illuminati at about the same time; friendly in that they only sometimes tried to have each other killed.

Lacy sighed and patted her weave idly. “No, sweetheart. I’d love to, but I’ve been passed over. You’re in.”

Kristen’s head shot up. There had been twelve candidates for the position of Controller and Kristen had been fighting tooth and nail for it for the last six months, but so too had all the rest of them. At the beginning, there had been sixteen; the fact that only four had died in tragic, anonymous ways was remarkable.

“What do you mean, ‘I’m in’? No one’s told me fucking anything.”  
“Probably buried in your email.” Lacy shrugged and Kristen was suddenly touched by how well her sometimes-friend was taking it. “Who’d you sleep with?”  
Kristen cleared her throat. She’d returned from London only a week ago and she still smelled Sonnac on her skin, spicy and rich. “No one to get me this job,” she said, opening her email. Ah, there it was, though how she had missed it, she didn’t know. She looked up at Lacy and found herself relenting. “Come on, I’ll buy the drinks at the Blue Screw tonight.”

“Yeah, all right.” Lacy was ambitious, but she didn’t hold grudges, which explained why she hadn’t gotten the job. “You can tell me all about how awful it was being stuck in the 16 th century in London.”

Well, probably not  _ all _ , but Kristen knew that she would find a willing ear in Lacy. She could certainly share all of the maddening things that Sonnac had done before he’d fucked her brains out. “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks, Lacy. I’ll remember this.”

“You’d better. Don’t let me get stuck filing paperwork for the rest of my life.” Lacy snapped her fingers at Kristen. “8:30 sharp at the Screw. I’ll have a martini and a tab with your name on it when you get out of here.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kristen began clearing her few belongings out of her desk; Illuminati agents weren’t encouraged to decorate their space. Besides, it wasn’t as though many of them had photos of families they wanted to display. It was lonely, all-consuming, secretive worked, but if you were good at it, it would pay like a bank robbery.

Lacy turned and dodged around the two peons who came in. “We’re here to escort you upstairs,” one said.

“Yeah, I know. Have my files sent up.” With her glass nameplate in one hand, Kristen sashayed past them and into the elevator at the end of the hall.

* * *

**TRANSATLANTIC FLIGHT**

Flights across the Atlantic, Richard Sonnac reflected as he glanced out the small window of the jetliner, were so much duller than shooting across the sky in a metal sardine tin should have been. This was one diplomatic mission that he would have happily forgone the pleasure of, if only because the novelty of travel had long since worn off. In addition, maintaining diplomatic relations with the Illuminati made his head ache. It was simply impossible to fix idiocy.

He had folders spilling paperwork on the tray table in front of him, but instead he elected to give some consideration to that Illuminati woman. With any luck, he would be able to avoid her on this jaunt; she was infuriating and he didn’t trust himself around her. He had already demonstrated that he was weak against his own conflicting feelings about her. 

When they’d…that day in his office, it had been animalistic need, something that Richard hadn’t exactly felt in a long time. He had just been so frustrated with her at the time, her flippant disregard of the traditions that had kept all of them alive for so long, her refusal to listen to anything he had to say, and her hooded-eyed smirk. His own self control up to that point, the fact that he hadn’t tossed her on her back on the floor of the library on their first day, was something he was rather proud of. 

He had, of course, hoped to get through her whole visit without giving into his passions, but that obviously hadn’t been in the stars.

And now he was willingly walking into the belly of the Illuminati beast. It should be easy to avoid her, he thought again. This was no Tokyo contract negotiation. This was a simple discussion with whoever his new Recruitment Mediator opposite number was about dividing territory.

He looked out the window at the nighttime ocean beneath the plane. Wispy clouds stretched in ribbons across the dark water. An amber light blinked out on the tip of the plane’s wing behind him. The sun was completely hidden now and the sky was soft as blue satin and empty as the void in Gaia’s nightmares. Richard sighed and leaned back in his thickly padded seat, choosing to ignore his responsibilities for just a little while longer. Soon they would be landing at JFK and then his life would become complicated, busy, and frustrating, but for just ten minutes, Richard chose to enjoy the silence over the ocean and forget about treaties and recruitment and fair-haired women in blue suits with cruel smiles.

* * *

 

**NEW YORK CITY-ILLUMINATI HEADQUARTERS**

“Could you make it any more difficult to see in here?” Richard asked his Illuminati guide, a twenty-something with a cocky stance whose name was, apparently, Ace. “Some lights that aren’t quite so bright or quite so blue might make things a little less nauseating around the office.”

“Uh, yeah, sir,” said Ace. “I think they’re going for modern.”

“Well, they’ve managed tacky.” The strange computerized voice echoed across the large open chamber again and Richard groaned. “While that, on the other hand, is literally the most annoying thing that I’ve ever had the misfortune to hear in my life. Doesn’t anyone around here have taste?”

Ace bristled at the challenge and Richard watched him, one eyebrow raised, until Ace calmed himself and sank petulantly into the collar of his jacket. “Good man, Ace,” Richard said, patting the boy’s shoulder. “Take me to your leader.”

He should have known, he thought as Ace opened the door to the glass-walled office. It was his luck, was the way of the Templar, that nothing ever went right. She was standing with her back to him, smoking casually, free hand folded around her waist. 

“Piss off, kid,” she told Ace without looking at them and Ace nodded respectfully and left, closing the door behind him. Kristen Geary took a drag from her cigarette and turned to look at him. He tried to hide his surprise, but wasn’t sure if he’d managed to mask it completely. “Hello, Dick,” she said.

He inclined his head, mind racing furiously. How had he not heard of this? They knew that there had been some personnel shakeups in Illuminati HQ. There’d been background checks, he was certain. Then he kicked himself; it must have been in the paperwork he hadn’t read on the plane. Curse his arrogance, and curse Kristen Geary too, safe in the confidence of her stiletto heels while he grasped for words. 

“Miss Geary,” he said finally.

She stalked over to her desk and slid into the chair behind it, putting her cigarette out in a blue glass ashtray on her desk. “You look surprised to see me.”

He sighed and came towards the desk, putting his hands into his pockets. “Your presence  _ is _ unexpected. I had hoped that my visit to the colonies would be a pleasant one and not marred by the high-pitched screeching of an overdone shrew.”

To his further surprise, Geary tossed back her head in an arc of pale hair and laughed; two months before in London she would have been shocked into offended silence. The promotion had done wonders for the sharpening of her arrogant valley girl persona. “Dick, sweety, you’ll have to do better than that to insult little old me.”

Richard cleared his throat. “Well, congratulations on your new position.”

She stared at him for a long time, smiling, until he found that he wasn’t able to stand still or make eye contact with her. 

Damn her; it hadn’t been like this before. 

She laughed again and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Sit down, Dick, you’re not gonna get shot yet. Are you so freaked out by one little girl?” The laugh was beginning to wear on his nerves. “Women don’t talk to you much, do they? Poor thing, never learned how to talk to the ladies.”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you try to insult me,” Richard said, but he sat anyway. The chair was slippery, modern and plastic, and Richard had difficulty getting comfortable. Geary watched him shift, shift again, and then give up. “I’ve had a long trip here and speaking to you wasn’t exactly on the agenda. If it was, I would have made sure I picked up some painkillers in the airport.”

“Funny.” She leaned forward and he knew she did it so he could see down her shirt because it was a moved used by thousands of women with agendas every day. He didn’t care. There was nothing interesting in a woman exposing herself to him because she wanted something from him. He had too many business negotiations not to have seen it before. He made his glance towards her cleavage obvious and made sure to look heavenwards afterwards. 

“Look, Dick, you need to stay away from our pick of Bees.”

“I don’t think so,” Richard said. “If you’re not going to put in the human resources, content as you obviously are to let machines do your thinking for you, then it is your loss if you miss recruitment opportunities.” He’d had enough of this. He stood. “Miss Geary, I have had a very long trip and now I have been insulted. Please have your little lackey show me to where I am staying. Perhaps in the morning, I will be ready to deal with your unpleasantness.”

* * *

 

He’d been just about to turn off the light, unsure of how he was going to sleep below ground with only the constant electronic hum, when the door opened. He put down his book. 

“Someone will see you,” he told Geary.

She flounced across the room to him. “I have paperwork for you. Besides, I sent Ace off on an errand. All he does is stare at my tits and drool anyway.” She threw the paperwork onto the black glass table in the corner. “I can’t believe you didn’t know I would be here. That’s fucking rich.”

He tried to stand, but as soon as he got to his feet, she shoved him back onto the bed. “Miss Geary,” he protested. “I know I have obviously appeared to you to be more than human, which is understandable, but even I am not all-knowing. Besides, I would have ruined your fun.” He chose not to get up, but instead sat against the headboard, glaring at her. “What do you want?”

Geary casually sat down on the bed beside him and picked up his discarded tie. “I think you may have some weird idea that I’m your bitch.”

“I never said that,” Richard pointed out in what he felt was a reasonable tone. He didn’t think she was his “bitch”; it was so crude. He simply was very firmly aware that he was in charge of the situation. But there was a look in Geary’s eyes that he wasn’t sure he liked. She reached out and took his wrist in one hand and he didn’t feel like resisting her. She had set him so off-balance in their meeting earlier that he wasn’t sure what to say to her. 

“Tell me if you’re going to wuss out on me, all right?” she said, knotting the tie around his wrist, checking with one long finger that she wasn’t cutting off his circulation. 

“That’s…thoughtful of you,” Richard managed.

Geary pulled the tie up around the headboard and back down. He twisted then, trying to get at her, but she yanked again and straddled his chest in a smooth, easy move, seizing his other arm. For a second they looked at each other and he caught his breath, letting her secure the other end. She laughed and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it away from his chest and examining him, straddling his hips and rocking gently side to side, making him bite the inside of his cheeks. 

“You know, you’re not bad for a guy who spends most of your time with books.”

“You’re not bad for a woman who had to sleep her way to the top. Oh, wait.”

Geary’s mouth opened, soft and still pouting, and then her hand came down, fast, and she slapped him across the face with such style and grace that Richard had to admire it even as his face stung. He pressed his lips together and pulled against the tie. “You—“ he started.

“Ah ah ah.” Geary leaned down, her pale hands gently cupping his face and she kissed him, her lips soft, warm, slow, gentle, everything that he hadn’t been expecting from her. “Now, Dicky, none of that. I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

He wanted to touch his cheek, which was already warm, to see if her neatly manicured nails had left marks, but the knots were well tied, impressively so, and Geary’s thighs slid against him as she sat up and hiked up her skirt with one hand. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath and, against all of his better judgment and what he would have wanted her to think of him in this moment, he realized he had lost control of his own desires. Now he just had to hope that Geary didn’t notice the erection pressed against her leg.

It was a vain hope; she started laughing. “Dick, I didn’t know you cared,” she said.

He sighed and looked away. “Alright, I’m game and there’s no point trying to hide it.” Passing that off as calm and a little uninterested was difficult, when all he wanted was her right now and he hated himself for it. “I’ll just lie here and think of England.”

“You’re not getting away that easily,” she told him. “Last time you just got what you wanted and I was embarrassed. This time, you get to pay for that.”

“And how am I going to do that when you’re so ready?” he asked. He could feel the wetness of her against his chest and it made him ache all the more, but he thought of paperwork and trade negotiations to keep himself in check. Carefully he tried to pull against the tie, but her knees tightened around him as though he were a horse that she needed to control and he stopped.

Geary laughed and rose onto her knees. “So fix it,” she said. “You have a mouth.”

“It seems to me that will just make it worse.”

She put one hand on the wall behind the headboard and looked down at him, eyes hooded. “I don’t need your mouth for talking, now do I,” she told him.

At the first flick of his tongue, her breathing quickened and he wanted to pull her closer but had to make do with a quick kiss to elicit another catch in her breath. It had been a very long time since he’d done this for anyone and the first time he’d felt so helpless about it. He wasn’t sure he enjoyed the second part, but the way her breath quickened and turned to tiny moans, and her hips moved in small, desperate movements made him feel more pleased with himself.

“You’re such an motherfucking dick,” she said and her hand tightened against the sheets beside his head. Her head tipped back and she rocked against him. “Oh my god,” she whispered, relaxing back against his chest.

When she’d finished, he turned his head and bit the inside of her thigh, harder than he’d meant to. 

“Did I say you could stop?” Geary said but she was breathless and there was something bubbly in her voice that Richard liked more than he wanted to admit. He bit her harder until she gasped.

She slipped away from him and unbuttoned his pants with a quick, practiced air. “Fine, if you’re going to be like that, then—-”

“Geary,” Richard growled, bucking his hips up to meet hers, “do you ever shut up?”

She leaned forward, wrapping her blue-nailed hand around his throat and squeezing just a little. Her breath drifted across his neck and jaw. “I’ll shut up when I want to,” she whispered.

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he gritted his teeth and turned his head away.

“Are you going to ignore me?” she asked, a laugh in her voice.

“I was hoping to, yes.”

She laughed outright, throwing her head back. Blue light from the bedside lamp reflected in a long line from her left ear down her jaw and neck and across her chest. Richard dragged his eyes away, scowling around. He opened his mouth to say something disparaging and Geary shifted slightly, and slipped down onto him, warm and wet.

Richard snapped his mouth shut, teeth clacking, so the groan of pleasure building in his chest didn’t become audible. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. His hands tightened around the tie, cutting lines of pressure across his palms.

“I’m sorry, Dick, what was that?” Geary rolled her hips in a long, slow motion.

Richard’s eyelids flickered. Think of something else. Paperwork. Trade initiatives. Mission prep. What was it in all the American movies? Baseball statistics?

Geary repeated the motion and Richard sucked in his breath at the wave of sensation.

“This is an unfair way to win an argument,” he said, managing a certain amount of disinterest, though not as much as he’d wished for. 

The movement of Geary’s hips quickened and she caught her breath just as he did. He wanted to pull her down and do this at his pace—-quick and dirty—-but he didn’t want to shred his tie. Besides, the sight of her face, eyes half-closed, bottom lip caught by her teeth and yet still smiling, sent another shudder through Richard. He  _ liked _ it. 

What a disaster.

She sped up, reaching up and propping her hands on the modern metal headboard behind him. Her Illuminati necklace swung free of her suit, the curves of her pale breasts glowing in the blue light.

He bit his lips to stay quiet. A shudder rolled through him, then another, as she increased the pace. But not enough. Her eyes were still open, head tilted as she peered down at him. Pale eyes glinted with cruel pleasure.

“How you doing down there, Dick?” she asked, breathless and still laughing.

He almost came then and there, just at the sound of her mocking voice.

Pressing his eyes shut until he had himself under control, he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. But it was hard to do given the intensity Geary was building. He made the mistake of listening to her hitched breaths and the slight desperate whimper behind them.

He didn’t want to ask her for anything. He pushed his hips up to meet her as she came down and she laughed.

“Do you need something.”

God, he wanted to slap that stupid grin off her face. His mouth pressed together and he grated out, “Faster.”

“Faster  _ what _ ?”

He fixed her with a hard, angry look, but she didn’t seem to take any notice, unless he counted the way the corners of her mouth curled.

“Faster  _ please _ .”

“Good boy,” she said and leaned into her hands, bare thighs sliding against his hips and ribs. He growled and pulled against the tie, wanting to feel her skin beneath his hands, but no, if he pulled any harder he’d ruin the tie, and he  _ liked  _ this one—-

Geary gasped in and said, “Oh,” very quietly, then tightened around him like a vice. He snapped his eyes to her face, but her eyes were closed, her mouth open in a perfect little O. Bliss ran across her features in waves.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered.

“Dick—-”

He knew what she wanted and he was too wrapped up in how close he was to deny it. “Please.”

Her lips stretched in a smile and she kept going. Richard turned his face away from her. Pressure built as she moved, caught...caught again...and released.

He growled out something that he only belatedly realized was, “God, Kristen,” and grabbed her wrists. She slowed as he bucked once beneath her, then slumped back against the bed, breathing hard.

He allowed himself only a few seconds to collect himself before opening his eyes. She was still astride him, peering down at him, arms folded.

“Did you just say my name when you came?” she asked.

He scowled at her and tugged at his wrists pointedly. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’ll swell. Oh, wait. It’s far too late.”

“Fine,” Geary said, waving a hand. “You can just stay tied up with your dick out all night for all I care.”

“Miss Geary,” he said.

“Fine.” She slipped off him, sucking in a breath as she did. Richard’s eyelids fluttered and he gritted his teeth. Geary leaned up and untied his hands, which dropped towards the bed with a thud. Richard rubbed his wrists, examining the tie. It was going to require some real work for it to look good again. Damn this woman.

He looked up. Geary sat on the edge of his bed, skirt back in place, running her fingers through her hair. The blue light made it, and her skin, look bone white, like a pale ghost. Richard examined her straight lines of her suit down her spine, wondering what she’d been  _ thinking _ . The last time had been...a mistake. Unplanned. A moment of passion, or perhaps weakness. This, though...she’d planned this. There was no other reason she’d come to his room, apart from sex.

But no. What had she said? 

_ I think you may have some weird idea that I’m your bitch. _

Good Lord, she was getting revenge. What was  _ wrong _ with this woman?

“I don’t like to be…out of control,” Sonnac growled, pulling himself up and buttoning his trousers. “I’d appreciate it if you kept that in mind from now on.”

Geary peered at him over her shoulder. “Dicky, honey, I couldn’t give a single fuck what you’d like.”

“You’re the one who came here,” he pointed out. “You wanted this.”

She laughed. “I can have anyone I want. Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you specifically. I’m not pining or anything if that’s what you think.”

He gritted his teeth.

“You wanted it too,” she said, turning to face him fully. “I was just getting it out of the way. Now we can fight about things that matter without you getting all pushy.”

He stood, breaking her gaze. “This was a mistake.”

“This has all been a mistake.” She stood up and walked toward the door, her heels clicking on the concrete. “Now we’re even. So no more mistakes.” She turned towards him, pale eyes glowing like the directionless lights of the compound. “No need to worry about your honor.”

He wanted to push her against the wall, press his mouth and body to hers, taste the sex sweat on her skin. Already he was ready for another round. Instead, he dug his manicured nails into the palm of his hand and nodded.

“So we’re done with this.”

“Of course.” Geary flipped her head. “Consider it forgotten.”

She smiled once, cruelty flitting through the curve of her lips, and slipped out into the hall. The door clicked shut behind her.

Richard rubbed his his hands across his eyes. The blue light was beginning to hurt his head. He needed to sleep.

And he had to stop thinking about Kristen Geary.


	3. Apocalypse Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much more gentle and delicate than previous chapters; it can't all be desk hate sex. But there's OBVIOUSLY some darkness in The Secret World and I would be stupid not to capitalize on it. 
> 
> So here's my take on Tokyo.

**TRANSATLANTIC FLIGHT**

They said it was a bomb.

It wasn’t a bomb.

Kristen was on a plane to Venice twenty minutes after the news about Tokyo broke. She didn’t get off her phone for take off. Alec stayed home on the ground in New York to keep the panic from spreading throughout the Illuminati headquarters. Everyone else was on the jet with her.

“Are they freaking out?” Alec asked.

“Aren’t you?” Kristen tapped her nails against the armrest. She hadn’t bitten a nail in years, but she was already missing the top half of the pinky one. The televisions on the plane roared with news coverage, conference calls, and ticking statistics. All Tokyo, all the time. Kristen’s stomach turned. She looked away.

“Of course everyone’s freaked out,” Alec snapped. “What do you expect? Any new information?”

Kristen glanced around. Everyone else was also on the phone. No one looked up to snuff. Unbuttoned shirts, heels kicked off under seats. If Kristen had a dollar for every shaking hand and trembling lip, she’d be able to afford those diamond-encrusted stilettos she’d been eyeing.

“No new info,” she told Alec. “Nothing at all. No one knows what the hell is happening over there, just that everyone is dead and it’s a mess.”

“Isn’t there a team over there?”

“Nothing from them yet.”

Alec breathed out into the phone. “Okay. When will you land?”

“Eight hours.”

“Fuck,” Alec said. “Keep me updated.” And then he hung up.

Kristen stared at her phone. Now her hands shook too. God, this was embarrassing.

She wanted to make a different phone call, to someone who she should never call, but no. If he had answers...if they’d done it…

She wanted to know herself. She wanted to hear it from his own lips, just before she shot him.

If the Templars had anything to do with this, she’d murder Sonnac herself.

* * *

  **TRANSCONTINENTAL FLIGHT**

Richard paced back and forth across the red carpet of the Templar plane. His glass of scotch pressed so hard against his hand it threatened to shatter. A few feet away, Dame Julia spoke quickly and quietly to a few security agents, her hands fluttering like wounded doves.

Richard couldn’t sit. He couldn’t stay still. He’d bitten his cheek so hard it bled. The ice in his glass clinked.

“Richard, dear?” Dame Julia said. “Any more news?”

Richard pulled his phone from his pocket. He shook his head. “No, Dame. Nothing new.”

“Our agent in Tokyo?”

“No word yet,” Sonnac said through clenched teeth. It was the fourth time in half an hour she’d asked. He tapped the toe of his loafer on the carpet.

What in the name of God had happened over there? And more importantly, who’d known about it?

Venice couldn’t be close enough.

He thought of Gozen, somewhere in Japan these days, but pulled his thoughts away from her. They had a history...but like most history, it tended to stay in the past. The affection still ran there, but he had too many responsibilities now...so did she...if she was still alive…

That was easier to say than admit to himself that these days he thought less of Gozen’s serene smile and more of Geary’s self-satisfied smirk.

But today, the thought of Geary didn’t make him both angry and aroused. It just made him enraged. This smelled of Illuminati. Stunk to high heaven of it. If Kristen Geary had done this, he would choke her to death with his own two hands if necessary.

He’d trusted her.

No, that was untrue. He’d never trusted her. But he’d allowed her too close. His skin crawled at the thought of it.

They’d be at the Council headquarters soon and then he’d have answers, where no one else could see them. This would be his fight.

* * *

  **VENICE-THE SUNKEN LIBRARY**

Everyone was yelling. Even the Dragon representatives, which was surprising. The gathering chamber, walled and floored in large marble blocks, echoed with the bickering in multiple languages. Most people were on their feet; blue and red and green uniforms were everywhere, with a smattering of the purple Phoenicians and the tall columnar white clad figures of the Council standing in somewhat stunned silence.

Kristen was the only one who wasn’t screaming.

No. That was wrong.

Sonnac wasn’t screaming either.

He was fifty feet away from her, deep in the Templar group, one of the few not wearing red. As soon as the Illuminati had come in, Kristen looked for him, and found his eyes already fixed on her, glaring. He hadn’t stopped since. Neither had she.

It had to be them. What had the Templar done this time?

And she’d _fucked_ him. And then he’d gone and destroyed all of Tokyo, like a dry-humored Godzilla. God, what was wrong with her? No, what was wrong with him?

Sonnac’s lip rose like an angry dog.

Kristen settled back into her seat; she’d chosen to stay sitting instead of screaming like an idiot. Screaming wasn’t going to make Tokyo come back from the gunk infested mess _someone_ (ie. Templars) had turned it into. Her feet hurt. Her head hurt. An empty, fearful ache built in her chest and throat, chilling her whole body.

And Sonnac was still upset. What right did he have to be upset?

She snapped her head away from him, chin rising, trying to ignore the shaking of her hands in her lap.

* * *

The factions fought for hours. Richard spent the whole time watching Kristen’s pale head as she tried _not_ to look at him; her eyes kept jerking in his direction, then away.

She’d done it. _They’d_ done it. He just knew it.

People began filtering out. The yelling subsided. Richard didn’t know what they’d decided. He waited for the Illuminati delegation to rise and excused himself, then followed them out. Geary trailed behind the rest, as though she knew.

He closed his hand around her elbow, hard, and yanked her back towards him, dragging her into an alcove. Dragon agents passed by, talking quietly. Richard slammed Geary into the marble wall, none too gently. The wind went out of her with a woof. Before Geary could make any move to escape, Richard slid his knife from his pocket and set it against Geary’s throat.

“What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.

The shaded alcove shadowed most of Geary’s face, but she wasn’t smiling. For once, she looked as angry and upset as he felt. “What did I do?” Geary growled back, “I think you mean what did _you_ do?”

Richard pressed the knife harder to her pulsing neck.

Something clicked by his belly and Richard froze. He knew what a hammer cock sounded like.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Sonnac,” Geary whispered. “You hurt me, I’ll hurt you worse.”

Richard let the knife’s pressure lighten. He stared into Geary’s pale eyes. “What did you do?” he asked again, but there was less venom in his tone, even to his ears.

“Nothing.” Geary’s voice trembled, but her gun was steady against his belly. “Nothing at all.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Geary’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flitted across his face. “Richard,” she said quietly.

He let her drop. Her gun dropped to her side. Another couple of stranglers passed. “You didn’t do it, did you,” he whispered, still pressed against her. “This wasn’t you.”

“God no.” Geary shook her head. “We thought it was _you_.” Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “It wasn’t?”

“Of course it wasn’t.”

They stared at each other for a second. Geary holstered her gun somewhere under her tight skirt. She swallowed. The anger in Sonnac’s chest cooled, leaving behind only the fear and uncertainty.

Ducking his head, he dropped his weight against Geary, resting his forehead against the wall behind her. It wasn’t a hug, he told himself. He didn’t hug, especially not when Geary was at the other end of it. It was just...exhaustion. He was tired. It had been a long day.

Geary didn’t hug him back; she just put on hand on his ribs, just below his shoulder blade, then dropped it.

“When are you leaving?” she whispered.

“No.” He shook his head, breathing in the smell of her skin; clean and cold. “This is a mistake. We agreed.”

“I know. I know that. I don’t…” She shook his head. “Get a hotel, Sonnac.”

“What did I just say?”

She shoved him back. Her eyes had aged years since he’d last seen her. There was no lust in her face, no sultry smile. “Sonnac,” she said, “get a hotel room.”

He nodded.

They went separately. Sonnac paid. Other members of the delegations were staying at this hotel as well; those who weren’t done fighting yet. Both of them being there raised no eyebrows. She knocked on his door ten minutes after he’d entered. He opened the door for her and she stepped into the darkened room. Sonnac let her close the door and stepped away.

Then they stared at each other a moment.

Geary’s shuddering breaths had evened out. She looked around the room, hair swishing over her shoulders. “I need a shower.”

Richard blinked. He’d expected what had always happened when he and Geary were alone; sex, rough and easy. Not this.

But Geary was already heading into the beige hotel bathroom, stopping only to take off her shoes and leave them on the counter near the sink. She turned the water on very hot so steam rolled out of the bathroom almost immediately. Richard stepped forward so he could peer into the room. Geary unbuttoned her jacket and pulled her necklace off over her head. The chain tangled in her hair and she tilted her head to tug at it, catching sight of Richard. Her mouth turned down.

“I’m not just here to fuck you,” she told him.

Richard cleared his throat and stepped away from the door. He thought he caught Geary’s laughter, but it was gone as soon as she stepped into the shower and the tone of the water changed. She still hadn’t bothered to close the door. Was he supposed to join her?

But he didn’t want to. Instead, he stripped off his jacket, throwing it on the floor, and unbuttoned his vest. His shirt collar was choking him, so he loosened it and pulled the knot of his tie apart. Then he dropped onto the edge of the bed, rested his forearms on his knees, and dropped his head.

Tokyo. Mother of God, _all_ of Tokyo. And God only knew how much else, who else.

He breathed out and closed his eyes. This hadn’t been in the cards. This wasn’t what he’d prepared for.

The water shut off. Richard opened his eyes. How long had he been sitting here?

Geary stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair sticking to her neck. She crossed the room without looking at him and stood by the window, staring out over the city. With quick ease and absolutely no modesty, she released the towel and raised it to her hair, scrunching up the ends.

“It’s quiet,” she said. “For the start of the Apocalypse.”

Richard regarded her. Despite the fact that he’d kissed her, touched her, and slept with her, he’d never actually seen her naked. She was very pale, likely from all the time spent in that Illuminati underground bunker. Blue veins stood out in her breasts and the underside of her arms.

“Did you expect a bang?”

“I expected more than this.” Geary waved her hand towards the view. She turned her head so she presented her profile for him. “I should go.”

“What are we doing here?” Richard asked.

“Enjoying the view, Dick.” Geary put one finger to her lips. “Don’t ruin it.”

Richard huffed and got up, standing a few feet away from Geary. It was hard not to look at her, but there wasn’t the desperate passion he usually felt in her presence. Just quiet understanding.

“You can stay,” he said.

“Yeah, all right.” Geary shook her head. “I just...didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

“Yes. I rather think I know the feeling.” He reached out and pulled her against him. Her sharp shoulder blades dug into his chest. Everything felt far away. Unreal. And yet, he knew something was out there. Everything was going to change after this. Everything.

Geary let him hold her without speaking, without turning, and without even moving. She stared out over the semi darkness of the city, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Geary,” he muttered into her neck. “Come to bed.”

She let him pull her, pliant and unresisting, nothing like the woman he’d come to know. Richard pulled her down into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

Richard’s chest was as as empty and cold as she looked.

Without speaking, he leaned back against the wooden headboard. Geary’s hair chilled his neck and the side of his face, but he said nothing. He ran a hand down her back.

This would be embarrassing tomorrow. His loss of emotional control, his show of something too close to weakness, in front of Geary of all people. But now, he didn’t know what else to do. He wanted this, to be here, with her of all people.

Tomorrow he wouldn’t.

But it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

Geary relaxed under his fingers, her breathing evening out. Richard watched the lights flickering outside. How long until it was this city bubbling with darkness? Or his own London?

His fingers tightened, scratching at Geary’s neck and she stiffened again, raising her head to meet his gaze. They hadn’t spent a lot of time near each other that wasn’t...well, taken up with other things.

She rested her fingers on his chin. “This darkness—-”

Richard looked away.

Her fingers tightened, pulling his face back to her. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know yet.” He tried to pull away, but her grip strong and she wasn’t afraid to hurt him. His hands tightened against her back. “We don’t even know what it is.”

Geary shook her head. “Well when we do…”

“Then I’ll fix it,” Richard said, leaning down and resting his cheek against the smooth skin of her back.

“All by yourself, huh?”

His chest warmed infinitesimally at the wry edge to her voice. It was the most normal thing she’d said today. “Yes, Miss Geary. All by myself if need be.”

“You know, you don’t have to call me ‘miss’.” The wryness was expanding throughout her whole voice, rather than just the edge. “I’m sitting naked on your lap. We’re past that.”

He sighed. “ _Miss_ Geary.”

She leaned close and kissed his jawbone, no more than a fluttering touch. “I’m going to bed,” she said, sliding off him. “You should do the same.”

He nodded. Geary slipped under the covers and Richard stood to unbutton his shirt, throwing it over the the chair beside the bed. Leaning over, he clicked off the light and slid under the blankets alongside Geary.

In bed with the Illuminati. Literally. It almost made him laugh.

Geary rolled over so her back was to him, far enough away that no part of her body touched him. Richard sighed and lay back against the pillows, propping his hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling in the darkness. Light reflected in streaks from the city outside.

He considered reaching out for her, but kept his hands firmly to himself.

For hours, he lay awake, thinking of Tokyo drowning under a thick tide of darkness. Though he heard no movement from the far side of the bed, he knew Geary was doing the same thing.

Around three o’clock in the morning, he fell into a restless sleep full of screaming and liquid dead eyes.

* * *

Kristen opened her eyes. It was early. The light had that diffuse quality it gained before the sun came up fully. A pigeon cooed outside, a gray shadow against the lighter gray sky as it perched on the stone windowsill.

The apocalypse still hadn’t gotten here. She’d almost expected to wake to red skies and a bloody moon, but that wasn’t to be.

Sonnac slept next to her, unmoving.

Kristen swung her legs over the side of the bed, running her hands through her hair. Exhaustion lay heavy on her eyelids and the back of her neck. Her bare legs shuddered into goosebumps.

She needed to dress and get out of here. Fucking Sonnac was one thing, a thing they’d already agreed was a terrible idea. This was something completely different. This was _emotional_. This was weakness.

This wasn’t what Kristen Geary did.

She sighed and got up. Maybe she owed herself a little latitude, given what was happening, but no, if she allowed herself that now, it would just get worse and worse. Give a bitch an inch and she thinks it’s okay to cry in public.

She crossed the room to the bathroom and dressed, pulling her skirt and jacket on, smoothing her hands down them to try to soften the wrinkles from leaving them on the tile floor all night. She peered into the mirror. Her eyes were soft and small without makeup. Dark bags pulled at the skin beneath them.

“Miss Geary.”

Kristen looked up. Sonnac leaned in the doorway. The muscles of his stomach stretched and puckered as he shifted. She pulled her eyes up to his face and offered him her best—-if slightly weak—-smirk.

“Hey, Dick.”

Sonnac examined her face, mouth tugging down into a frown. “You’re leaving.”

“Of course.” She stepped away from the mirror and put her hands on her hips. “What were you expecting, breakfast in bed?”

Sonnac’s frown deepened.

Kristen shoved past him. “I have a lot of work to do. Bees to train. Agents to find. Apocalypse to stop.” She shrugged. “All in a day's work.”

Sonnac rolled his eyes. “As though you could stop the Apocalypse. You may not have caused this, but I’m sure you had something to do with it.”

“Sure, Dick, that’s nice.” She patted his shoulder and picked her shoes up, pulling them on and zipping them up the sides. “You run on home and get on your horse with your sword and go pretend you’re a big bad knight off to slay monsters. I’ll do the real work.”

She was feeling a lot better this morning. How nice.

She leaned forward and patted Sonnac’s cheek. “A mistake, right?”

“Absolutely.” Sonnac pulled back from the touch. “Given the circumstances, perhaps an understandable one, but regrettable nonetheless.”

“And we didn’t even fuck,” said Kristen brightly. “Understandable _and_ no boning. See? Improvement.”

But in her heart she knew this was so, so much worse than casual sex.

“You should leave, Miss Geary,” Sonnac growled.

Kristen slipped him a sunny smile and pulled open the door. The hall was empty.

It was time to go home. There was a lot of work to do.


End file.
